


Aquaphobia

by Umeko_Zoul



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Abandoned base, Aquaphobia, Jamie has a fear of water, Old base, Oneshot, Other, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 15:01:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8805418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umeko_Zoul/pseuds/Umeko_Zoul
Summary: Mercy and Roadhog discuss matters regarding Jamie's fear of water.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Do not be afraid to leave a comment! For the individual who requested this, I hope you like it!

A tuckered out Junker was snoozing in his bed, lying sprawled on his back with loud snores escaping his throat. Blond locks simmering in response to his calm state of mind, they made the most minute streams of smoke that collected carefully on the ceiling. Despite the rather uncomfortable appearance, his slumber was quite peaceful. There was a rhythmic pitter patter of feet nearby, loud enough for Jamison to twitch, but quiet enough to not wake him. The feet made their way past his room, down the hall, and into the kitchen.  
The feet belonged to a doctor. 

Eyes wide but clearly exhausted, Angela scanned the room for any signs of the man she was supposed to meet. For some reason, this base was more than dark and overly-spacious. Anybody could hide in a corner unseen. Even somebody as big as Roadhog. She hadn’t even noticed him until the lights were turned on. The only indication of him being in the room was the raspy, ragged breathing. 

The lights certainly illuminated the room. A small marble counter dulled by the outshining post-seasonal décor, and a long row of stoves, dish washers, and oak wood cabinet spat “old-fashioned”, but at the same time, it was cozy. Tile floors of a scattered black and white proven to be aged; worn out, chipped, and few others cracked completely down the middle. And yet… despite all the imperfections and rather unorderly manner the building was in, old base held a rather special place in her heart. She remembered when it was built, so looking at it again gave her the simpler-times nostalgia. At times like this, the nostalgia was more than welcome; it was a good take-away from the tension both Angela and Mako felt.

There was an exchange of what was hoped to be eye-contact. He said nothing, but motioned for her to sit. Shaking her head, Angela pointed out that the chair he’d motioned to had a leg being held together by duct tape. This caused a low chuckle to escape his mask, and he assured her that “the only one at risk of breaking the chair was me.” This, while amusing, also convinced her to take a seat. 

Silence followed, broken only by the gruff wheeze Roadhog made during an attempt to speak, which, unfortunately, only diminished into disgusting coughing.  
“You sure you’re well?” The doctor instinctively questioned. “I can always-“

“It’s fine.” Mako ran a hand through his ponytail rather awkwardly. “Happens all th’ time.” A heaviness dripped from his words, landing on the floor and puddling around Angela, infecting her with the same tone when she spoke again.

“Anyway, there is quite a bit we have to discuss, Mako.” A pause. “I am allowed to address you as Mako, yes?” A reluctant nod. “Mh…” Her weight shifted from one side to another, wintry orbs scanning him for any expression of, well… Anything. He couldn’t express much with a mask like that on.

“I understand there is a rather large problem regarding Jamison’s mental health. But before we can talk about it, I should tell you a bit more about this residence.” Another stop, seeing if Mako had anything to say. Nothing. The man was dazed by something she couldn’t see. At this point he probably tuned her out. 

“The gas and electricity still work; the beds are nicely put together but I am sure you both are not picky. Since you are also self-sufficient, I am quite sure you both won’t need me supplying you with food, money, and other resources. My schedule, while busy, is quite flexible, especially on days like-” 

“Angela.” 

She stopped herself immediately, shooting him a rather curious stare. Clearing his throat, he grabbed the arms of his seat and did his best to straighten his posture. Audible cracks from his knuckles made the doctor cringe, knowing that his poor hands were feeling some sort of constant ache, most definitely if that sound was a normality. 

“I…” The man seemed unable to word his thoughts, although they were so clearly written out in his head. As she waited, Angela’s ears caught something. A sound. Mako was clicking his tongue. “I want to thank you f’ doing this.” Angela opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a soot-stained hand. He seemed dangerously dim, like a light that was put into a socket improperly. Not even the shiny accessories wanted to flaunt. Everything, living an nonliving, knew this was serious.

“I want to thank you for letting us have a place to stay.” A deep breath. A raspy exhale. A complete dismissal. “Normally such charities are rejected under suspicion.” The doctor gave him an understanding nod. “But for you, since you’ve already agreed to help J-“ 

It was Angela’s turn to raise a hand. Roadhog ended with a loud sigh, but allowed her to say her part. Immediately the gentle Swiss insisted he say no more. There was no reason to thank somebody for doing their job. Mako questioned her. 

“I’m… Ethical.” She pursed her lips, carefully going over her word choice. “If it’s to help somebody in need, I am more than willing to do it. Now, we should address the topic before we tire.” She sat herself on the floor, legs crossed with her hands tucked in her lap. Despite her rather snug orange pajamas, Angela found herself to still be quite chilled. 

“Jamie’s fear of water.” Mako visibly tensed. “How long has it been around?” A shrug. “Well, I am going to assume it was during or after the incident. Now, what’s the severity?” 

“Ah…” The Aussie groaned, massaging the back of his neck. “ ’s about as bad as not taking a bath. I do trick him into drinking water though. Is there any reason for this question?”

Angela closed her eyes. “The severity is important, so is the time it’s been around. It lets me know my options of treatment.” Sighing through her nose, the blonde shut her eyes, trailing into a deep thought. 

Silence pours unevenly into the room, coating the atmosphere with a horrible darkness that once again hid Mako despite the lighting. He wanted to break the silence, to maybe crack a joke or two. But her range of humor was likely on too far for her caliber. So, he sat. Heaving, coughing, wheezing, the piggy nose of his mask suffocating itself and him at the same time. Mako felt consumed, convinced if the silence didn’t break soon he’d have to improvise.

“My best option is cognitive behavioral therapy.” 

Roadhog snorted. Not the best way to break the quiet, but he took it. “Big words, doc. Care to explain?”

“It’s a type of therapy that consists of removing the negative thoughts from your mind before facing something you’re afraid of.” A nod, but the doctor was sure he only understood the first half. He seemed too exhausted to pay attention to more talking. “Meaning, if we want to alter his thoughts on water, we’re going to have to convince him it’s not dangerous.”

“Oh?” He intertwined his fingers, watching her closely through the mask. “And how are you going to do that.?”

“We. There is no simple you nor is there I. If we’re going to get this to work, we have to show him how weak water is, together. He won't listen to me alone. So if you tell him I'm right, He'll believe you. Not like I'm lying about it, either. After all, water is a mere hydrogen bond.” Mako gave her an impatient huff, and Angela nonchalantly reached to him and patted his foot. "There, there. It was a small chemistry joke."

“Now do you think you are willing to help me with getting Jamie out of this silly phobia?” She asked, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised. “It’ll be easy, I promise.”

Mako nods. “Easy.”

A delighted giggle escapes the doctor. She holds up a delicate hand, which is roughly shaken, then pulls herself to her feet. 

“Well, we start tomorrow then.” 

“You’re a saint, Angela.”

“Oh, please.” The doctor snickers. “I am merely doing my job. Ethics, remember?”

"Ethics. I just discovered the word and I already hate it."


End file.
